A Race Against Time
by LavenderSnowFlake
Summary: Cornelius was faced with an impossible decision that set a path in motion. Time becomes essential when a single clue is dropped at his feet that holds the life of his wife, Franny in its words. With the help of the law and their quick witted son, Wilbur, can the high-tech genius beat the clock to figure out the clues or will Franny pay the ultimate price of the decisions he made.
1. Preface - Unfamiliar Surroundings

_I had posted this story awhile ago. My account had been hacked, so it got deleted. I want to repost it and finally finish this series. I really love this idea, and I hope you will too. Some might remember it, but I am adding changes to certain things. Enjoy._

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Preface  
_Unfamiliar Surroundings_

_Unknown  
__August 2037_

**T**he beat came in a rhythm. A constant rhythm that pulsed against her temples like a drum.

_Bump, bump, bump, bump…_

Her lids slowly began to part. Little by little, light was able to slip through the thin veil of her lashes. Through the cracks of her parted eyelids, until she was nearly blinded. Her eyes fell closed again, shuttered away from the brightness by a weight that seemed to force them closed. After a few rapid winks and a harsh groan of annoyance, she could finally focus clearly.

Her neck was stiff.

Her back ached.

Her head throbbed.

Her arms and legs tingled.

Everything seemed to hit her all at once, and it was painful. It took a few moments for her to realize the room, that still spun in circles with dancing black dots, was unfamiliar. With eyes wide and a shiver down her spine, she felt a rush of panic course under her skin.

The room she found herself in was cold and damp; poorly lit as well. The pounding in her temples got worse with her movements. Her sore eyes glanced around, but she couldn't make out anything besides dark shadows and blacked-out corners. She looked above her head to find the single bulb that gave light around her. A beat-up dome hugged around the dying bulb. It flickered twice, allowing darkness to creep in, before it continued to give light; only to illuminate over her.

The headache grew too much, so she lowered her head back. Her fingers itched to rub circles against her temple bones to sooth the horrid pain, but she found her arms wouldn't budge to offer the relief she desperately craved.

'_What-?'_ Her heavy head turned toward her arm.

Her gaze trailed the length of her slender, pale arm until she could no longer see flesh, but badly chipped painted wood. Her brows knotted in confusion. Both her arms seemed to be wrapped around the back of a chair and locked together at the wrists. She stopped wiggling her arms when something rough pinched her skin. She guessed a rope was used to hold her arms in place. Her teeth bit into her chapped lips while she tried to lift her body up so she could at least unwrap her sore arms from the chair; get in a better position. Not much progress was made when her legs refused to move another inch. She bent over to get a look at her legs. Both her ankles were pressed to the front legs of the chair and tied with rope to secure them.

The cold dampness of the room gave her a sense of unease that shivered through her. She commenced to wiggle her wrists beneath the rope to try and work the knot loose. Her body forced grunts of effort when time moved with no progress of freedom. Her only progress was pinching her skin.

She groaned in frustration, vibrating her throat, before she slumped against the chair. Her head back, she tried to calm her heartbeat that matched a roller coaster. The chair creaked from her rough movement. Her mind swam from the unnerving silence. Questions, so many questions crowded inside, but she didn't have an answer for any of them. It was like she stood before a mirror blacked over with marker when she tried to remember what had happened.

When the moan of old hinges echoed off the walls to ring in her ears, her body went stiff; the breath stolen from her lips. The noise dragged out like it wouldn't stop, which made her cringe into her shoulder to stop the ringing. When it finally stopped, the room grew unearthly quiet again. She grew restless. Her eyes moved in every direction they could. Her flight drive kicked into max to run. When a thump was heard, she jumped in the chair. Her heart thundered against her ribs, her throat tight, when she heard the thump again.

'_Footsteps?'_ Her teeth harshly chewed on her bottom lip. The metallic taste of blood spread along her tongue. _'What the hell is going on?!'_


	2. Chapter One - A Restless Night

Chapter One  
_A Restless Night_

_Francesca  
__Todayland __August 2037_

_A Week Earlier…_

**W**ind sounded like a ferocious howl just beyond the window that night. The scream of it, whipped tree leaves and slammed rain against the glass, was what woke her from her dreams.

Franny, rested on her left side with her eyes toward the large window that covered most of the wall, debated whether she wanted to get up or try to fall back into the dark world of dreams. Her back faced the bedroom door and the right side of the large bed. She didn't need to turn her head to know her husband did not currently occupy that side of the bed.

She shifted her eyes away from the rain that raced over the glass to look at the clock on her nightstand. The black lines that formed the numbers and letters were surrounded by a dull background of deep blue. She released a sigh with a roll of her eyes.

Two fiftty-three in the morning.

Franny pulled the fluffy comforter over her head with a groan of agitation. She tucked her knees into her chest with her arms wrapped around to hold them there. She forced her eyes closed. She allowed her ears to listen to the rain in hopes of it soothing her back to sleep. The storm just outside grew louder with a roll of thunder to raddle the window. Franny grunted. She concluded that she wouldn't be going back to sleep, not with the weather raging in high volumes. Her brain would only scatter more than calm. Franny pushed the comforter and sheet away from her body, the heat that had once been trapped inside lost in the battle of the cold air that charged, to swing her legs over the edge and push herself up. Her arms stretched above her head to get her blood flowing. She rounded the foot of the bed to get to the bedroom door. Her pajama pants threatened to tangle under her feet with every step she dared to take. She untwisted the waistband around her hips, fixed the matching teal tank, before she turned the golden doorknob. Lightning shot out from the clouds, the bedroom lit in a flash of blue, with a roll of thunder not far behind.

Franny slipped out into the long hallway just outside her bedroom door.

The house was deathly silent while she made her way down the dark hallway. The quiet hum that buzzed around her ear from the stillness of her home was unfamiliar and frankly unnerved her. So irregular that it made her think something was wrong. The Robinson Mansion, quite large in scale, was always buzzed with noise. From the loud canon fire from her eldest brother, Gaston just before he hit his target, sometimes the target being her face, would shake the picture frames on the walls. The echoed arguing of her nephew, Laszlo and her niece, Tallulah usually filled the halls of something only they found important. To the racing footsteps of her son, Wilbur around the house even after the many warnings she called out to him. His chargeball glove around one hand and Carl not far behind him. Franny couldn't help the warm smile at the thought of her son.

Her bare feet generated not a sound on the long carpet that covered most of the marble floor. On her way towards the stairs, she passed by several closed white doors. Her mother and father-in-law, Bud and Lucille, occupied the first door to her right. His youngest brother, Joe shared a room with his wife, Billie across the hall. Wondering how they were enjoying their vacation, Franny moved further down the hall. She could hear her eldest brother, Gaston talking in his sleep to her left. Was he making monkey sounds or was there an actual monkey with him? Deciding she didn't want to find out, Franny quickly passed Art's room to grab the banister along the edge of the staircase.

Franny carefully made her way down the steps, pulling her long pants away from her feet to prevent them from tucking under her heel and causing her to slip. Another flash of light illuminated the open concept of the first floor. Thunder rolled over the house causing the windows to shake around her. Franny wrapped her arms around her torso to will away the cold chill that fell over her. She questioned why she hadn't grabbed a shawl or blanket before leaving her bedroom. Her fingers curled around her bare arms on her way towards her son's bedroom door.

Wilbur was the only Robinson who had a bedroom on the first floor. When he was around eight years old, he begged Cornelius and her for his room to be moved from upstairs. He claimed that the far wall was perfect for his chargeball screen, but Cornelius was against the idea at first because the room he wanted was filled with hundreds of boxes, old books, and furniture; all covered in dust. Weeks had gone by, Wilbur begged her every day to change their minds, and one day Franny finally caved to his big brown eyes. He was moved in after another couple days. Franny remembered having a hard time at first because Wilbur had always slept in a room right next to her.

Franny, wrapped so deep in memory, nearly ran into the door. With another clap of thunder, she opened the door enough to poke her head inside to check on him. Something she hasn't done since he turned ten and being told he was too old for her to tuck him in at night. She looked around the large room. Wilbur, although a thirteen-year-old, was obsessed with space and chargeball and his room reflected that. She found it was dimly lit by the lava lamp of pale blue on his desk; something he always turned on at night for his fear of shadow demons, or so he called them. Franny knew it had something to do with the video games he liked to play at times. He must have recently played such a game.

Franny slipped her body through the door and made her way across the room to the levitation panel that would take her up to the balcony; where his bed was placed. Wilbur was fast asleep on his back. His arms flailed about him, one above his head that hung off the mattress, the other draped over his forehead. Snoring, and laying at the wrong end of his mattress. His head was nearly off the edge. Franny carefully stepped around his pillows that had been tossed about his floor. His quilt, printed with the chargeball symbol, lay halfway to the floor. With a shake of her head, she pulled the quilt so it covered him. She brushed back loose strands of his hair and gave a kiss to his forehead before leaving.

Franny rolled her eyes when she spotted all the dirty piles of clothing on his floor and his laundry basket empty in the corner.

_It's no wonder he complains about not having clean underwear._

With a final look at her snoring son, body tangled in his sheets, she closed the door behind her. Franny made her way back down the hall without a sound to disrupt the peace that surrounded her. Another flash of lightning illuminated the foyer casting the shadows of furniture across the marble floor into the family room. She turned her neck to look towards the front doors on her left as she came upon the archway. Her eyes squinted after she swore a shadow moved from the corner of one of the windows by the doors. She quickly stepped up to the locked door and flipped the porch switch up. After a scan of the outside, Franny turned the light off, telling herself it was probably from one of the potted bushes or a tree branch blown around by the wind.

She shook her head at her sudden paranoia before making her way through the family room to the kitchen. The kitchen was lit by strands of white lights left on top of the cabinets since last year's Christmas. Franny personally liked having the lights up there so when she came down in the middle of the night, like she was then, she could see without turning the main lights on. Franny reached up in the cabinet to grab the kettle. She nearly knocked a glass measuring cup over, but her hand steadied it before it shattered against the marble. She filled the kettle with water at the same time she closed the cabinet door. Once filled, she turned from the sink to place it on a burner of the stove. She set the correct burner to medium.

Her back leaned against the countertop while she waited for the kettle to heat up. Her gaze moved from the stove to the windows along the back wall of the kitchen to watch the rain beat against the glass. Was it her or did the storm get worse? She watched the rain create the streams down the glass. Part of her wanted to rush outside and dance around the yard. To feel the rain soak into her clothes like a sponge, her hair loose to dance in the wind, and her tongue out to catch the drops. The strike of lightning and thunder put a damper on her childish desire, but not on the many memories she had of being caught in the rain.

"_Cornelius?" Franny called while she walked the path that looked like a ribbon weaving through the park in the middle of Todayland. The street lamps were her source of light as she walked further into the lush green park. There was no reply._

_Franny brought the folded paper, which she had found on her pillow with instructions to go to the park, up to her eyes so she could read the clue her husband provided._

_Where the fireflies sing and the willow trees dance with their reflections._

_Franny dropped the paper to look around her. There were plenty of willow trees in the park, no fireflies in sight yet, but they were mostly spotted around the lake. Franny nearly palmed her forehead before she raced off toward the center of the park. Following the brick path, it wasn't long until she found the lake and the bridge that crossed over it. Standing against the rail right in the middle was her husband, Cornelius. He stood there with his eyes in the starless sky._

_With a smile on her lips, Franny walked up to him until she was close enough to place her hand on his shoulder to let him know of her presence. His smile was large when he turned to face her. With his goofy grin, he pushed his glasses back up his nose and wrapped his hand around her waist. His other brushed his knuckles against her freckled cheek. Franny leaned into his touch. His hands weren't the softest, but she knew with his job his hands were in constant use._

"_I started to wonder if you would ever show." He spoke in a deeper voice than her own._

_Franny opened her eyes to give him a smirk. She grabbed his hand from her cheek to hold it within hers. "Hm, you didn't really give me a specific location to meet you."_

"_I thought the clue was simple enough." He chuckled._

"_To you, yes." Franny pointed back. "So, what is this surprise?"_

_Cornelius took his hand from her, the other still at her waist, to hold out in the direction he wanted her to go. Franny and Cornelius walked beside each other until they stepped off the bridge. Cornelius was quick to move behind her and cover her eyes with both his hands._

"_Whoa," Franny exclaimed, "what are you doing?"_

"_Keeping the surprise, a surprise. I'll be your eyes and just follow my directions." He spoke in her ear with a kiss to her cheek when he finished. Her cheeks flushed with heat and walked in the direction Cornelius told her._

_She couldn't help but hold her arms out before her. She trusted her husband enough that he wouldn't run her into a lamp pole, but it was a habit from her older brothers who would purposely run her into something. She walked that way until she was told to stop._

"_Okay," he spoke from behind her, "ready?"_

"_Of course." Her teeth bit into her lip while her stomach took flight with butterflies._

_She heard his deep intake of breath just before he removed his hands. She had to blink a few times to clear the circles, but once cleared she saw something beautiful._

_A single white sheet lay under the branches of a willow tree. Four white candles placed at the edges with flames bobbing in the breeze. In the middle was a single basket, two plates, glasses, and a single flower. Franny covered her mouth from surprise. She watched the branches sway together and the fireflies flicker while they danced together._

"_You remembered." Franny breathed. Her eyes remained on the surprise he had put together for her. "I didn't think you would remember. You were always locked in your lab."_

_Cornelius pulled her against his chest by her shoulders. His chin replaced his hand and his arms snaked around her stomach. "I locked myself in there to keep this plan a secret. I thought it was a good idea. A good way to keep the family from knowing and spilling the secret." Cornelius chuckled. "I had to bribe Wilbur so he wouldn't say anything."_

_Franny turned her eyes to look at him. "Wilbur's sixteen months old, Cornelius."_

_He gave her a shrug with a grin. "What? Wilbur could have easily told you." He defended. "He is spoken well enough to tell you in a few words."_

_Franny couldn't help but to chuckle and shake her head._

_Cornelius removed himself from behind her, grabbed her hand to lead her toward the dinner he had prepared. They both sat down near the wicker basket that had the neck of a bottle poked out from one of the two flaps. Franny could smell the sweet scent of the flower he had placed on the other side of the basket. The petals of the Dahlias flower were an unusual orange with tips of white and a bright yellow center._

_Her desired flower._

_Franny reached over to grab the steam, placed it just under her nose, then took a deep breath in. "You really shouldn't have done this, Cornelius. It's all so much."_

"_When it comes to you Franny," Cornelius plucked the flower from her fingers to snap most of the stem off, his fingers placed the little bud of a stem he left behind her ear, the flower kept part of her black, wavy hair from her face, "nothing is ever too much."_

_Franny felt her body melt. Her heart skipped a beat. Tiny flutters danced in her stomach again._

_Cornelius placed a glass, filled with a sparkling white wine, in her hand. "Do you remember?"_

_Franny looked confused at her husband for a brief moment until her eyes looked to the glass. She realized he wanted her to guess the wine._

Alright._ She thought just before the rim of the glass touched her lips. The aroma instantly smelled familiar. Fresh apples. The chilled liquid slid over her tongue then down her throat. While she thought about the refreshing taste, she swirled the glass._

_Where had she tasted it before? Her teeth picked at her bottom lip when her thoughts went deeper. Franny wasn't much of a drinker. A glass or two of wine with friends or family holidays. Birthdays, besides Wilbur of course, were the choice of the person they were celebrating. Thanksgiving was also out because they all usually had red wine to drink; as was the family tradition. Christmas didn't have any, apple cider was the pick so the younger members could participate in the family toast._

_Franny dug deeper into her memory. So determined to figure it out that she, nor Cornelius, noticed the small drops that fell into the lake or the ones into her wine._

_A cold drop of rain landed on her shoulder blade which made a trail down her back. Franny jerked her head up toward the blank sky through the willow branches. Another drop landed on her cheek. She brushed it off with her fingers._

_The drizzle became a down pour shower._

_Franny gasped from the surprise and her glass dropped to the sheet; her wine spilled out over the white cotton. Her husband looked up to the crying sky; shocked. He quickly jumped to his feet, his blue button-up shirt soaked to his shoulders, grabbed Franny's hand and pulled her up. Cornelius started to pull her into a run blindly while he searched for a dry place to wait out the rain. Franny grabbed her long skirt and moved her feet quicker to match her husband's longer strides; his legs were much longer than her own and she didn't want to trip. The heel of her nude shoes sunk into the mushy grass. The loose, yellow skirt of her dress tangled in her legs. The rain made the fabric wet and heavy._

_Her eyes searched the darkened park to help find a place to go. Off in the distance, her eyes spotted a pavilion they were about to pass. Franny tightened her hand within Cornelius' to gain his attention. She pulled them toward the pavilion. She felt the rain hit every inch of her body while she rushed through it. Her hair glued to her back, and her heels slipping off her feet. Both skidded to a halt once they were safely under the roof._

_The five lamps that circled around the wooden structure brought forth a desired warmth from the chill and offered a sunset glow of light._

"_Ah, I'm sorry, Franny. I planned everything down to the flower, but I didn't plan for it to rain. I ruined everything." Cornelius hung his head until his chin touched his chest. He removed his spotted glasses to wipe them on the few dry spots of his shirt._

_Franny stopped ringing out her skirts to look at him. She took off her shoes and held them by their heels at her side. "You didn't."_

_She watched his head snap in her direction. She only gave him a smile._

_Franny was soaked to the bone as her elder brother would say. Her yellow dress tangled around her legs much closer than it had when it was dry. Her hair was damp, waved, and frizzed over her shoulder. Cornelius moved toward her. His fingers pulled strands from her lashes. When his hand pulled away, she saw the flower between his fingers._

"_How could I not have messed it up? I spent so long planning everything so it would be perfect."_

_Franny grabbed the flower from him to hold in her palm. "Our wedding."_

_Cornelius just looked at her confused._

"_That was the wine you gave me. Riesling. We had that wine at our wedding. And this?" She gestured the pavilion they stood under. "This is where we shared our first kiss as husband," Franny wrapped her arms around his neck loosely, standing on her toes, "and wife."_

_The smile he gave her was wide. His arms swathed around her. "Happy one ye-"_

The squealing sound of a loud whistle broke Franny from her daydream.

Her hands quickly shot out to remove the kettle from the burner. She turned the stove off to kill the heat and placed the hot kettle on the wooden hotplate she grabbed from a drawer. It was around three in the morning and she rather not wake the household from their dreams. Franny reached for a mug out of the cupboard to pour the hot water into. She also grabbed a single tea bag from the pantry. Her favorite to drink when she couldn't sleep. Green Tea. Finally, able to sit down, Franny wrapped her hands around the steaming mug. Her palms absorbed the heat through the glass. She waited for her tea to spread through the cup before she pulled the single bag out. She placed the used bag on the hotplate until she was finished with her drink. A few blows over the top before she took her first sip.

The house remained as a ghost, the storm that continued to rage outside the windows was the only source of sound, but she felt slightly on edge. Her toes curled around the barstool foot rest. Her shoulders tensed and her back went straight. No matter how much time passed, she would never feel comfortable with a silent atmosphere. She had always been surrounded by noise even as a child, from her two older brothers, Cornelius' unique family, and her own child there was never a dull moment.

Her head turned toward the window after another flare of light. The thunder came suddenly, much like a screaming child. Franny drank her tea and watched the soothing streaks of rain. It seemed strange, but she found herself betting on the rain drops that fell down the window. Watching to see which would reach the bottom first. She had to start over when a drop would merge with another; it happened more than the actual race. She hadn't noticed until she went to take another sip that she had actually finished off her tea. With her betting clearly at an end, Franny got up from her seat to place her mug in the sink on the other side. She would wash it in the morning, right then she wanted to get back to her bed. Her fingers grabbed the kettle by the wooden handle, ready to dump what was left of the water, when a shadow moved in the corner of her vision.

Franny yelped, jumped on her toes, nearly dropping the kettle of hot water on herself. "Carl," she gasped, "you startled me!"

"Sorry Franny." Carl, her husband's first working robot, held his arms up in defense. "I heard noises coming from this room, so I came to see what they were." He eyed the kettle in her hand. "I can see it was you and not Wilbur trying to sneak in a midnight sweet…again."

Franny smirked. "I guess I wasn't as quiet as I hoped." She went on to pour the steaming water down the sink drain.

"I didn't mean to startle you though, Franny." Carl apologized.

Franny placed the empty kettle back on the matt and gave Carl her full attention. "It's alright. The storm is making me a bit jumpy, I guess. I wasn't expected anyone else to be up at this hour." She explained.

"I don't really sleep since I'm a robot." He shrugged. "I was on my way to check on Cornelius actually. To see if he needed anything—"

"Wait," Franny cut him off, "Cornelius is here? In his lab?" Carl nodded his head in response. "I assumed he went to the office already."

Carl blinked, cutting off the LED blue light of his eyes, before he spoke again. "Yeah, he's still here. He hasn't been up that long. Maybe two hours before you." Carl reached for the empty kettle to put it on the drying rack she kept on the side of the sink. "He said there was important paperwork he needed to finish before heading in."

Franny tapped her fingers against the garnet of the polished countertop. "Hmm." She reached across for her used teabag and dropped in through one of the two trash holes cut into the countertop. "Thanks, Carl. I'm going to head back to bed."

Franny turned herself away from the golden robot that was just a bit taller than she was, most likely because she was not wearing her heals. She heard Carl call out a 'what for' but she didn't answer as she crossed the open floor of the family room. Instead of going up the stairs and back to bed like she had planned, Franny instead headed for the laboratory doors.

"He's going to send himself to an early grave with how much he works." She muttered to herself, passing by Wilbur's door.

She noticed the dim stream of light seeping from the crack along the bottom of the door at the end of the short hall. The seam of her pajama pants flapped around her ankles with every step she took that brought her closer to the door. Without a knock, she stepped inside leaving the door open, surprised it was unlocked and made her way up the two sets of stairs. Before she even reached the top, Franny spotted her husband hunched over the dark wooden desk set to the far left of the large room. A single sheet of paper in his hand, his heavily bagged eyes staring at it with complete focus, and his free hand pushed into his hair. Franny noticed several more sheets of paper stacked near the edge. The desk lamp giving him enough light to see.

As Franny made her way across the crowded space, 'rounding scattered inventions he had stored in various places, Cornelius did not move a muscle. He hadn't seemed to notice her entrance into the room, nor her continual approach. Franny stepped over what looked like an unfinished gun with loose wires so she could stand at the opposite side of his desk. She took notice of his crunched brows. The corner of his mouth that twitched upward like it did every time he was deep in thought.

"Cornelius?" Franny whispered in a gentle tone to not startle him. But her husband didn't shutter a movement except for his eyes that glided to and from. Franny rolled her eyes then went for the paper in his hand. She snatched it quickly and for a moment Cornelius was deeply confused until he looked up at her. His bright blue eyes, one's that never failed to remind her of an azure, looked at her like she was a ghost; something that wasn't supposed to be there.

"Franny?"

Franny took notice of how dry his voice sounded. The darkened bruises under his lashes; evidence of his lack in the case of sleeping.

"You need sleep." She stated plainly.

"I will, I will." He smiled sleepily at her. "I just have to finish this damned blueprint equation."

Franny moved around the desk to grab his arm. "It's past three in the morning, Cornelius. You can finish that later." She began to pull him out of his chair, but only managed to roll the chair away from the desk. "Even a genius needs his sleep. You can't change lives if you're literally falling asleep in the office."

She could hear the rough chuckle in his throat. "Yeah, you're right."

"Of course, I'm always right. Now, to bed. I need you to help me get back to sleep because the storm is not working." Franny turned the lamp off on their way out the door. Her husband's hand pressed to her lower back as they descended the stairs.

"Alright, alright."

Franny and Cornelius left the laboratory behind, not bothering to lock the door, and made their way up the staircase to the second floor.

Cornelius draped his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer and his lips pressed into her hair. Franny leaned her head against his shoulder on their way to the bedroom.

Once on the mattress, the couple relaxed into the sheets. Cornelius placed his glasses on his nightstand, pulled the covers up to his arms, then pulled her back into his chest. Before she closed her eyes, she felt her husband kiss her temple and whisper a good night.


	3. Vengeance

Vengeance

_Todayland  
__August 2037_

**H**e felt no doubt.

_That must be her. They look too short to be any of the men in the family._

Hands held leaves down to the bush he hid behind, he let his eyes follow the form as they stepped off the last few steps of the sharp curved staircase. He lowered a bit more when the figure entered the kitchen. The room the large window he chose viewed into. His eyes lit up when the shadowed figure came to be the one he wanted to see.

Francesca Robinson.

A marvelous show of light lit the sky like a strobe light for as long as it took him to take a breath. He watched the lightning provide better sight of the room and her form. The defining sound of thunder made his ears ring when it finally rolled across the air. The storm had seemed to get more violent since he had arrived on the grounds. The lightning much more frequent. The thunder louder. The rain seemed to pelt against his back like the repeated sting of a bee. With the rush of rivers down his face, he felt like he would drown. Every article of clothing he wore looked like glass. He could see his skin through the cotton button up. When he realized, he found he didn't care about the threating storm or the cold wind that howled around him.

He remained focused on the women who was busy filling a kettle with water. He watched her every movement. How wide her stride was when she walked. How long her lids stayed together when she blinked. How many times she subconsciously brushed shorter hair that hung on her forehead.

He ducked quickly behind the bush completely when her eyes turned in his direction. After he took a few short breaths, he slowly lifted his head up until his eyes sight was just above the bush. When she was in his sights again, he found her back leaned against the countertop with a far off, dreamy look in her gaze. Her dark, wavy hair hung over her shoulder and snaked nearly to the curve of her waist. He took in her posture. How her back was slightly hunched at her shoulders. How the bone to her shoulder blade poked out from her arms being crossed. He traced his eyes over the shape her body gave while it leaned against the counter.

Her neck was long, pale, slender and dipped just before it connected to her collarbones. With her blue tank-top, he could easily see the bone outline of her collar. Her breasts were modest in size, not large by any means, but also not small enough to be considered flat. Her short torso and stomach were slim. He could even see her hipbone peek from her slightly lifted tank. Her pajama pants were baggy, but he bet her legs were as shapely as he remembered. Her feet were small from his viewpoint.

He went back to studying her face. Her eyes still looked far off, and he began to wonder what she was thinking about. Was she thinking about when the storm would end? How about what she needed to get done when the day came? Her son could be occupying her mind.

His hands fisted in the leaves and twigs of the bush. The harsh wood scrapped against his palms.

_Her husband?_

The thought of that man made his body shake from anger; although it could finally be the cold wind. He felt his blood rush in his veins like fire. Despite the bitter night, his body grew hot. If it were possible, he would imagine steam radiating off him. He couldn't help the dreadful memories that began to sneak into his thoughts. The memories that changed his life for the worst. The start of his downfall into a terrible life. He felt the burning pain in the side of his face, and his hand placed over the soaked, white bandage to try and get the throb to stop. He forced those memories back into their locked chest.

_NO!_ He shouted to himself. _No more sulking over your pain. Now…now is the time for you to take action on those who did you wrong._

He had decided a few days previously that he would do onto those who had done onto him. And, because of Cornelius Robinson…he lost everything. Everyone he had left. Because of him, no one would ever look or think of him the same as they once had. He knew Cornelius knew he had caused him pain, but he also knew that Cornelius didn't care. He had thrown him out like garbage! For that…Cornelius Robinson would pay dearly. Having found the perfect way to, he gave Francesca Robinson one last look as she talked with their family robot, Carl they called him, before he crouched through the expansive front yard and back to the road.

A little down the street, as he stood before his car, he gave one last look to the Robinson home.

_Let this be phase one of my vengeance._


	4. Chapter Two - Eyes of Unease

Well ... hi! It has been a while, I know. But life got really messy shortly after the last chapter was posted. Things have calmed, so I thought why not sit down and edit chapter two?

I hope you enjoy it and will see you in the next update!

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Chapter Two  
_Eyes of Unease_

_Wilbur  
__Todayland August 2037_

_**His body**_ sat up in his bed faster than it had the previous morning.

Wilbur looked about his bedroom to find that he truly was awake and no longer in the dark, cold room with a single burning candle. The blinding morning sun shone through his opened curtains to illuminate the room. Everything was where he had left it. His phone fallen under his leg. Headphones long since fallen from his ears to dangle off the side of his mattress. But then he noticed his comforter. He remembered he had fallen asleep with it nearly to the floor after he kicked it away from the heat. So, how did it get from there to here? Had someone checked on him late last night? Or did he pull it over himself at some point in his sleep?

"Wilbur!" His mother's voice blared over the speaker to the intercom.

"Ah!" His body jumped against the mattress with a twist. His hand pressed against the edge and it slipped off. His body went tumbling to the floor with a loud thud. His blanket distorted around his legs and his face buried in a pillow.

"You up, sweetie?"

Wilbur slowly lifted his head from the pillow and raised his voice loud enough for his mother to hear. "Yeah."

"Good. Breakfast is nearly ready."

He sat up from the floor, pulling his legs free of the blanket, and stretched with a groan. "Be right there." He replied while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

His mother didn't give a reply, so he figured that she went back to finishing up what was still needed for breakfast. Still not fully awake, Wilbur pushed his fingers through his hair and felt the sweat beaded along his forehead. With the back of his arm, he attempted to remove the sweat, but he only found more on his cheeks and neck. He pushed himself from the floor, untwisted his shorts, and separated his shirt from his sweaty skin. He nearly jumped over to the panel that waited to take him down to the main floor of his room. He stepped off before it finished its descent. With another long, groanful stretch, Wilbur decided to take a quick shower after the smell of his armpits wafted under his nose. He grabbed a pair of jeans, a white tee, and underwear before skidding down the hall to the bathroom just off his bedroom door.

After peeling his shirt from his chest, shorts and underwear down to the floor, Wilbur stepped into the rectangle, glass shower. Careful to not get his hair wet, he pulled the lever down to release the water and wasted no time. Five minutes was a personal best for his shower time. Once the soap was gone down the drain, the water switched off, Wilbur wrapped a towel under his arms. The plush rug under his feet soaked up the water falling down his legs. He quickly brushed the towel over his skin, not nearly getting all the water off before he forced his legs through both his boxes and dark jeans. He nearly fell to the tiled floor when the material stuck to his damp skin. He pulled the shirt over his torso, so the three blue strips crossed his chest. He quickly rubbed his deodorant, not wanting his mother to say something, again, about his odor. He left his towel in a bundle on the rug and went back to his room.

Wilbur hopped around his room trying to pull his socks over his feet once he found a clean pair. He tripped over his black convers and landed in one of his red bean bag chairs. After he pushed both his feet inside his shoes, he laced them and headed straight for the dining room. Where his family waited for him so they can eat breakfast.

_Wonder what mom whipped up for breakfast today. Ooh, I hope it's pancakes!_

Wilbur pulled his door closed on his way out. He quickly made his way into the family room to get to the other hall where the dining room was placed. The souls of his convers clopped against the marble of the floor, shining from the steams of sunlight through the many windows along the walls and ceiling. He came upon the tracks built into the floors for his Aunt Billie's toy train. He waited to see if it would come zipping by him, but it never did.

_Guess Aunt Billie stored it in the train room while she's away._

Without having to worry about the train, Wilbur crossed over the tracks and down the left hallway. He passed Uncle Gaston's canon range to his left; oddly silent. The same with his mother's music room to his right. Her frogs must not be practicing at the moment which was odd to him since they were usually jamming around this time before his mother went to practice with them.

The dining room doors were both open and as he got closer, he could hear his family's voices carry into the hallway. Grandpa Bud was the loudest as he told a story from when he was a science teacher.

"Then I accidently mixed the wrong chemical, and the beaker melted right there on my desk." Bud's cracking laugh echoed around the dining room walls as Wilbur finally passed through the doorframe. "The school board was not happy they needed to replace the desk…and the floor around it."

Uncle Art held his stomach while his laughter took over. Wilbur had to step away from Uncle Gaston's chair when it suddenly shot from the table; nearly colliding with his body.

"What did you do while they fixed the room?" Gaston asked. His palm rubbing against his cheek.

Bud smiled with an open mouth; his false teeth settled behind his lips. "I had to use another room. Needless to say, they practically threatened me to not destroy that one as well."

Wilbur crossed the rest of the room to get to his chair. To the right of his fathers at the head of the table. He plopped into the mint colored chair, leaning it back on its hind legs, and his feet crossed at the ankles on the tabletop. "And of course, what did you do, grandpa?" Wilbur piped up into the story he had heard a couple times now. "You create a foaming mess that stained the walls a sickly brown color."

Grandma Lucille brought her fingers to her lips as she chuckled.

"And the stain is still there today!" Bud exclaimed with his arms held out.

Gaston and Art leaned over the table as they laughed. Gaston tapped his closed fist over and over, the vibration creating ripples in his glass of orange juice. Art held his own glass, filled with ice water, near his lips. He tried to take a drink but every time it came close his laughter prevented it. Wilbur smiled at his two favorite uncles. His mother's older brothers.

"Guess we missed a good story, Franny." Carl's voice called over the dying laughter.

Wilbur turned to look at the doorway where his mother and Carl had just entered with a cart filled with plates. "It would seem that way, Carl."

"Good morning, dearie. Where is Cornelius this morning?" Lucille asked Franny after the laughing had finally stopped.

Wilbur watched his mom head towards his end of the table. "Morning. He left for the office early." She gave Lucille a peak on her cheek and Bud a squeeze on his shoulder as she passed her parents-in-law.

Lucille gave Franny's hand a pat, that had placed itself on her shoulder, before Franny continued to her chair near the head of the table. "He left without breakfast again?"

Wilbur felt his shoulders tense when her eyes locked with his. Her brows crunching together. "I made sure he took something with him before he left." Her fists pressed into her hips. "Wilbur Robinson, take your feet off the table, and stop leaning back in your chair before you bust your head open." She scolded him.

He quickly set the chair back on the ground with a loud clap. His feet dropped back to the floor and gave her a goofy grin. She only shook her head at him and moved to sit in the chair his father usually sat in; something she tended to do when he wasn't present for a meal. Wilbur chalked it up to her wanting to sit next to him. He honestly didn't mind. Wilbur turned his head to look at Carl who was passing out the plates of breakfast food.

Carl was the Robinson family robot. His father, Cornelius, designed and built Carl when he was a young adult. Carl has been a part of their family for years and he couldn't remember a time he wasn't around. On the outside, he was covered in a golden hard casing that protected all the wires and biocomponents from the changing weather. He could walk outside in the rain without short circuiting. The intensity of the summer didn't over-heat him. Winter was no problem when it snowed because it wouldn't freeze the magnetorheological fluid; what gives power to his biocomponents. His eyes are a pure blue that changed pigment depending on what was going on. If he was processing information, then they would turn a yellow color. Red would appear if he felt danger or something wrong in his system. Wilbur had only seen them red once. Carl also had a biocomponent in the center of his chest that his father called _the heart_. It was what gave Carl life, kind of like how a human heart worked. It regulated all their systems and kept them from shutting down. Of course, over the years Carl had been improved and upgraded to do more than he could originally.

Although Carl had known everyone in the family a lot longer than him, Wilbur could say he was much closer to the robot. Close wasn't the right word, more like his best friend. They did almost everything together. Video games, in-town adventures, and mischievous plans; Carl often did his best to talk Wilbur out of his crazy plans. Carl just ended up helping his mother patch him up afterwards.

"There you are, Wilbur." Carl broke his train of thought with his sudden voice. He leaned in to hover over his ear. "I made sure to put cheese in your eggs. Sharp cheddar, just how you like."

Wilbur flashed him a smile. "You're the best, Carl."

Franny got on to him again about his chair, but he barely heard her. With the plate of freshly cooked food in front of him, he realized how hungry he was. The sweet aroma of blackberries danced around his nose; teasing him. He took a deep breath of the fumes, like one would do with a sharpie, but Wilbur knew the only thing he would get high off of was the taste on his tongue. He locked his fork in his fist.

This morning his mother made Bavarian Pancakes. Instead of the familiar raspberries, he saw the blackberries that went with the smell inside the roll. Powdered sugar and a spoonful of blackberries topped it off. His eggs took up the rest of his square plate. Wilbur reached toward the middle of the table for the jug of syrup and poured the sticky liquid over not just his pancakes, but also his scrambled eggs. He placed the jug back on the table at the same time he stuffed his face with the first bite.

"That's so gross, Wilbur." Carl commented as he placed a glass of apple juice and water near his plate. "You ruined perfectly cooked eggs."

Wilbur popped his head up to look back at Carl. His cheeks puffed like a chipmunk, syrup on the corner of his mouth, and powdered sugar on his chin. "Maybe to you, Carl but not to me." Most of his words came out as fumbled noise, but Carl looked to gather enough to know what he said by the playful eye roll. Wilbur stuffed a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"Whoa," Franny spoke after she swallowed her first bite of food, "slow down, Wilbur. The food isn't going anywhere."

Wilbur wiped the loose drops of syrup from his mouth with the back of his hand and swallowed the partially chewed eggs. "Yeah, yeah, sure thing mom." He said nonchalantly while he reached for his glass of apple juice to help wash the food down.

Wilbur continued to eat his breakfast in silence as he listened to the quieter conversations among his family. Both his uncles talked about what they still needed to pack for their trip tomorrow morning. They were going to see his other grandparents; who he only sees maybe twice a year. On Thanksgiving and Christmas when they drive over to the next town to see them. His grandmother was whispering something to his grandfather, so he couldn't hear what the subject was. His mother's conversation with Carl was about what tasks she needed help doing around the house. Wilbur heard some of the same things along with new ones. Helping with the dishes after breakfast. Getting the laundry washed and out to dry. Putting books back on the shelves in the library. Apparently, his mother had a lot to do today before her class in the afternoon and the company dinner she was going to with his father shortly after.

Wilbur tuned out after the list kept going on. Her voice becoming background noise to his own thoughts coming forth.

His nightmare.

Since he woke up, Wilbur couldn't completely shake it from his mind. It was such a simple dream. A dark room that had no walls. There were no trees to say he was outside. No metal bars to suggest he was in a cell. There had been nothing around him. He remembered how he used the single candle on his way to find something around him, but as he had walked, Wilbur only grew colder. He had felt his toes tingle within his shoes. His fingers had gone stiff around the candle until he dropped it at his feet. His limbs trembled violently as he had bent down to pick the candle up; still lit. Before he had woken up, he heard a whisper come from right behind him.

Wilbur had stopped eating his food a few moments ago. Now his fork just tapped the corner of his plate. His eggs jiggled with each hit. With a sigh, Wilbur scooped up the last bite of his pancakes and started to scroll through his phone. Ask he read the latest posts made by his friends, Wilbur pushed his back into the chair and swallowed.

One second he was in his chair, then next he was sprawled out on the rug that covered the floor. His fork bounced off the emerald rug nearly the same time he had. "Ouch."

"Wilbur!" Franny gasped from the sudden motion. Wilbur saw her head poke over the edge of the table to look down at him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Wilbur rubbed the back of his head while he sat up, "I'm good." His cellphone slipped from his chest to land in his lap with a _plop_.

"I told you not to lean your chair back like that."

"I'll remember that next time." Carl offered his hand when he made it over to Wilbur. Wilbur gladly accepted the help. Once back on his feet, he brushed off his pants and tucked his phone into his back pocket. He bent over to pick his fallen chair back up and pushed it to the table.

"Now, can I please get back to what I was saying?" She asked him with a raised brow of question.

Wilbur looked at his mother with a tilt of his head. His arms crossed over the back of the chair and rested his chin on top. "You were saying something before?"

She sighed. "Yes, I was, and it seems you were ignoring me."

"No, I wasn't—"

She gave him a look before she started speaking again. "It's fine, Wilbur. I'm all too aware of your selective hearing."

Carl gathered up his plate and then the empty one in front of his mother. He walked back over to the cart to deposit them there. Wilbur watched him move to take Bud's plate that was hardly eaten.

"Since school is starting up again next Monday, we need to head into town to gather your supplies."

Wilbur dropped his arms, hunched his shoulders and made the ugliest face he could. "I mean, do we really have to? I still have plenty of things from last year and—"

Franny held her palm out to stop him from saying anything else. "Wilbur, you and I both know you've grown out of your jeans since last fall, and that your folders are beyond hope from last year."

Wilbur gave a quick look down at the pair of jeans he wore. He saw the hem was above his ankles. With his signature cocky grin, Wilbur placed each of his feet into the chair to roll the bottom of his jeans up, so they looked like capris. "I think I'll be fine."

"We will be going after Carl and I clean the kitchen from breakfast. No arguments."

Gaston leaned over to get closer to Wilbur's ear. His sudden presence made Wilbur jump away. "Best not to argue with your mother, Wilbur. You may already know this, but it's easier to just go along with what she says." With his glass of orange juice, Gaston began to head out of the room. "Life is much easier that way."

A balled-up napkin bounced off the back of Gaston's head. "You're one to talk, Gaston." Wilbur turned his head to find his mother standing from her chair with her arms crossed. Her eldest brother simply laughed as he left down the hall.

"Fine! We'll go shopping! I can't promise not to complain every second though." Wilbur shrugged his shoulders. "But Carl and I already made plans to play games this morning, so you're on your own with cleanup." Wilbur raced towards the hallway beyond the dining room doors. He grabbed Carl's arm on his way out and pulled him along.

"Wilbur Matthew Robinson!" His mother called after him.

Wilbur didn't rest his legs until he was safely back in his room. He swung his door open, still pulling Carl along by his arm, and skidded to a stop nearly to the center. He finally released his friends arm and Carl put his hands on his hips. His foot tapping against the ground, in a similar way his mother did when she was frustrated with him, Wilbur noticed.

"What?" He asked slightly out of breath.

"I need to help you mother cleanup from breakfast, Wilbur. You can't wait until this afternoon to play games together?" Carl questioned.

"Mom will be fine, Carl." He swiped his chargeball glove from the gaming stand; where he stored all his games and accessories. "I'm sure grandma will stay to help her with it all. You ready to lose?" He pulled the glove on.

"Phesh, please. You will be the one crying at the end of this match." Carl said while grabbing his own glove. Seeming to relax about not helping his mom.

"We'll see, won't we?"

Wilbur and Carl both stepped on the gaming pad, and their bodies were engulfed in a white light before they were standing on opposite sides of each other.

The course Wilbur chose was a virtual representation of the Robinson garden. In the middle of the course was a spinning circle that looked like a pizza, with four pieces missing. On either side of the spinning pizza were bushes in the shape of hands; that moved up and down after 5 seconds. When one was up the other was down. And of course, on the walls of both sides of the court were the large green bounce pads that recoiled the chargeball to the closest target.

Wilbur crouched over, both arms held out ready to fire his first shot. Over the middle of the court, the blue holographic numbers counted down from three. When the word _'go'_ appeared, Wilbur sent a chargeball toward the set of three green squares that will be hidden behind the bush hand in about 4 seconds. With a grunt, the chargeball shot forward and struck two of the three. The hand shot up for him, and he shifted his attention to the green squares behind Carl.

Carl had successfully knocked out three of his total eight. Wilbur only got two.

Wilbur saw Carl start after the ones that will be hidden in five seconds. He moved so he could hit the green button and knock out the ones behind Carl. He swung his hand and the chargeball released, bouncing off the button and knocked another block off the court. Wilbur took a few steps back towards the center and shot another chargeball off. He was hoping that it would bounce off the grass wall and hit a target. Wilbur studied it closely and yelled out _"yeah!" _when the chargeball hit between two and disintegrated them.

'_three left to go.'_ He thought to himself.

Wilbur moved about the court back to the center and shot his wrist forward. The lightning looking chargeball shot forward into the pizza circle. It barely passed through the open space. Another block disappeared.

_Two._

He moved his feet back and forth over the line in a half circle. Flicked his wrist to send more chargeballs out. Carl was hitting his targets as well. One of Carl's chargeballs bounced off the wall and struck Wilbur in the leg. Though Wilbur didn't mind much since two of his accidently hit Carl.

Before long, both players were getting lower in targets.

Wilbur only had two left to knock out, and Carl only had one. Wilbur could feel the sweat drip down his forehead. The nerves getting him all jumpy. Wilbur adjusted his position to swing his chargeball at the last two targets behind Carl. A power-up popped into the path of Wilbur's chargeball and the item is locked into his inventory. Wilbur looked into the circle on top of his glove to see what it was. He got the Freeze. This is the first time during the game that Wilbur had gotten this power-up. He had gotten one other like the shield.

Wilbur pressed down on the circle to activate the power-up, and Carl was instantly frozen within a cube of ice. Taking the opportunity, Wilbur shot his chargeball through the spinning pizza, and the chargeball bounced off the wall and knocked into the target. He quickly moved toward the green button. When he was within shot Carl had unfrozen. Carl quickly shot his chargeball and it knocked into Wilbur's final block.

With all of Wilbur's blocks down, his dark goal began to glow green. His goal was open.

'_Dang! Carl must be practicing without me.'_

With quick speed he sent a chargeball out, but it missed its target by a few inches. While he was distracted, Carl had sent his final throw and it landed right in his goal.

The scoreboard changed to show Carl had a point.

"You got lucky!" Wilbur shouted across the court.

"I think you may be out of practice little buddy." Carl called back.

"Please, you needed all that extra practice to catch-up with what I was born with." Wilbur crossed his arms over his chest and sent out his confident grin. Obviously not letting his lost round of the game make he act a sore loser.

The countdown began again. Both players shifted themselves into position, and the blocks reset along with the goals.

They began to play. Chargeballs flying across the simulation field.

Wilbur was victorious the second round which put them tied, each with a single point.

With their last round, Wilbur only had three blocks left to knock off Carl, and his opponent had five to remove. Wilbur sent his eyes around the field for the best strategy, spotting the bomb power-up, and shot a charge out to collect it. Knocking out two of the remaining three he needed to. With the widest grin, he sent out another to bounce off the green bounce pad to eliminate the final barrier to his victory. He waited for Carl's goal to awaken, unguarded, and flexed his fingers. The moment the bounce pad turned green again, he fired his final shot. He jumped in excitement when the charge entered the opposite goal.

As the scoreboard read that Wilbur won the game, he noted that his copper plated, robotic friend had gotten his goal open as well. Seconds after he had shot his chargeball into Carl's open one across the field. Both players were returned to the gaming pad in Wilbur's room. With a hand held out towards Carl, his body turned and gave him a wide grin.

"Great game." Said Wilbur. "You almost had me there. For a moment, I thought you would get the second point before I."

Carl gripped Wilbur's outstretched hand and gave a smile of his own. "Next time I _will_ beat you."

Wilbur arced a bushy, black brow. "Is that a challenge?"

Carl said nothing as he dropped his hand from around Wilbur's, slipping off the glove right after. "You know it little buddy."

Wilbur _humphed_ with a smug smile. He pulled his own chargeball glove off his right hand, flexing his sweaty fingers, and tossing it carelessly to the floor near the game pad. Carl walked over to place his on the table next to the trophy case.

"You know your mom hates when you do that with your things. It never fails to come back with you never being able to find anything … and then complaining to your parents or me. That's the whole point your mother got you this table, so you can keep all your gaming things together. You know … so you can actually find them!" Carl balled his hands on his hips.

"I have a system you silly robot." Wilbur pressed his thumb into his chest with a broad smile.

"Oh really? You do?"

"Of course I do. Everything has a place in this room, and right now everything is where it's supposed to be." His arms crossed over his slim chest. Widening his grin in a smug way.

Carl leaned his body heavily on one hip and extended his neck out a bit more to move his head closer towards Wilbur, staring at the teenager with his bright blue LED eyes. "That so?"

Wilbur gave a single sharp nod downwards.

"Where is the lava lamp your father made for you last year? The one that has the holophotos floating around in the wax of your family and you?"

"Oh, that? That would be on my-" Wilbur had spun around to point at his desk, but when he saw it wasn't there, he stopped mid-sentence. "Somewhere around here."

"Mhmm." Carl raised one of his thin, copper brows.

"Look … it's around here somewhere. All I have to do is look for it. I'll find it." Wilbur mumbled towards his annoying friend. Refusing to look Carl fully in the eye. "I mean, is there anything Wilbur Robinson can't do?"

"Well let's see," Wilbur watched Carl begin to count on his fingers, "there's clean your room, be on time, tell the truth, put your clothes away, close doors, sit still, eat your veggies, return borrowed items, play the trumpet, run for office, say-"

"I was being _rhetorical_!" Wilbur exclaimed with both hands raised above his head.

"Oh, I know you were, but I thought I'd remind you anyway," Carl smirked. "I have plenty more if you'd like me to keep going?"

Wilbur dropped his arms like heavy weights were suddenly tied around his wrists. His large, warm brown eyes glared at the family robot. "I'd really rather you didn't go through the trouble, Carl."

Carl raised a single finger and opened his mouth, but before he was able to get another word out the sound of his mother's voice bellowed from the family room.

"Wilbur! It's time to go!"

Wilbur took the opportunity to escape. His lanky legs bolted for the bedroom door and down the hall to meet his waiting mother. A light jacket over her shoulders and her hand digging through her purse, most likely looking for the key to her car. Once Wilbur grabbed his own jacket, insisted by his mother, they both headed into the garage and settled themselves in the vehicle.

* * *

_**Wilbur complained**_ the whole time they were in the car. Muttering under his breath that it was stupid. That he would rather be playing a game before his mother put the restrictions on again. The same usual complaints his mother was all too familiar with.

During the supply shopping, he was rather quiet. As his mother searched through the items he would need, Wilbur, leaned against the aisle shelves and put his input out on what he wanted for the school year. Mainly what color pens he wanted, type of pencil he preferred, and the style bag he wanted to carry all year. He did make a fuss about the folders though. When Franny was pulling out the colored ones he would need for each class, Wilbur stomped his foot and told her they would only rip and fall apart before the half-way mark was over. He got her onboard with buying the colored binders instead, stating how they would last much longer, possibly all school year. His mother seemed to think about it for a moment before agreeing. Placing the small binders in the cart along with the folders.

The supply shopping did not take as long as Wilbur had hoped. Too soon they were off for the other side of the large shopping center into his favorite clothing shops. Wilbur had to fight with Franny about every item of clothing. Getting him to put on jeans was like World War III. After about seven trips to and from the dressing room, Franny decided on five. Wilbur picked out his own shirts. The best part was he hadn't need to try them on, he just pulled them from the racks and asked his mother's opinion. He hadn't need to pick out many longer sleeved shirts since he didn't normally wear them. A shirt, light jacket, and occasional heavier jacket were enough for him to get through winters, but of course his mother insisted. Once the cart was filled with school supplies and new clothing, they headed into the shop where Wilbur got his favorite convers. A quick look at his feet, Wilbur admitted his shoes did look a bit worse for wear, and he could do with a fresh pair to get through the school year and next summer.

After a quick check that they had everything needed for the start of the school year next week, Franny and Wilbur headed back to the front of the shopping center where the checkouts were located. Wilbur, at that moment, was leaned against the counter of the self-serving checkout while his mother purchased everything; his head lost in thought. To make the sense of time move faster, he occupied himself with scanning the crowd of people walking about. Taking notice that his mother was not the only one to drag him out shopping today. Several other mothers were moving about from shop to shop, gathering needed things and stopping to scold the complaining child.

Wilbur let his brown eyes wonder around the busy space aimlessly, not keeping too long on a single person … until he suddenly caught the sight of someone very familiar. Sitting on a provided wooden bench not far from their checkout counter was a man maybe around the same age as his father. He held a book over most of his face, all except the shape of his eyes. Eyes that seemed all too keenly locked in their direction. His breath caught in mid intake. At first, he thought the man was staring at him, but after lining up the man's gaze as best he could, Wilbur found he was focused on his mother.

_Sorry buddy. Not in your wildest dreams._ Wilbur growled to himself.

Wilbur lowered his head enough to look like he was focused on his phone, but his eyes were lifted to keep them on the man. What was it that made his skin crawl with a chill when he found that man's eyes? Why did the muscles in his arms tense the longer the man looked at his mother … so strongly … so, threateningly? Wilbur, from a very young age, was taught the dangers of his father's work. Why the office wasn't a strictly safe place for him to be, or why he wasn't supposed to be allowed in his father's personal lab at the house; not like their warnings did much to prevent him. But the main vulnerability his parents ingrained in his skull was that not everyone favored the change his father brought to the city … or the world. Wilbur had a sudden hurry to leave the mall after thoughts crept into his head. He pushed himself off the counter, shoved his phone in his back pocket, and rushed to his mother. Franny was signing her name on the thin, glass-like pad to complete the transaction. Wilbur tried to round her slim body, but his shaking legs made his shoulder bump against hers.

"Wilbur," Franny scolded.

"Let's go, mom." Wilbur interrupted before she could scold her completely. His fingers wrapped around the reusable bags.

Franny put her wallet back in her purse, then placed her balled fingers upon her hips. "What's the sudden rush? You usually enjoy coming out to the shops to look about the new gaming-"

"We didn't really come to the shopping center to look at games, now did we, mom?" Wilbur gave a quick glance back over to the bench but was a bit startled that the man was no longer there. An unease settled in his stomach. With a heavy swallow, he glanced to his mother, brown eyes begging. "Besides, my feet hurt … and I'm hungry."

His mother looked at him with an expression of both confusion and suspicion.

"Plus, I think it's high time I cleaned my room."

He didn't give her much of a chance to respond when he nearly bolted for the parking lot. Wilbur heard her loud sigh and watched her grab the rest of the bag when he glanced back in her direction from the door. Wilbur was the one to take the lead towards the car, his mother following behind; shoving the receipt in her purse. To their right, three rows away, and halfway down before his mother's green car came into view. He practically threw the bags into the trunk before climbing into the body of the vehicle. Wilbur laid out in the back seat after clasping the seatbelt around his waist.

Franny placed her palm on the glass screen of the dashboard after inserting the key. The car came to life. Lights brightened. Displays opened. Franny pulled the GPS up to program the cars direction towards home. Her long thin fingers pressed the A/C, clicked the radio, and placed her phone in the charging dock. Once Wilbur felt the car lift itself from the ground and being its way through the sky did he finally allow the tension in his shoulders dispense. He reached up to rub his fingertips against his forehead. His thoughts finally being allowed to revert back to the man he saw.

He knew he had seen those eyes before, he was almost positive, but he found it difficult to pinpoint exactly where and when he had. He had no question, no doubt about how he had felt in that moment. The way the man had hid his face with the book, he could only conclude that he was trying to conceal his features. He knew a lot about sneaking around, he did it nearly every day. Avoiding his mother when trying to find something fun to play with in his father's lab … especially the time machine.

Wilbur squinted his brown eyes to regain the main focus of his thoughts. It was only the man's eyes he could picture. Wilbur knew that they were not friendly in any shape nor form. To others simply passing by, he looked to be reading his book, but he saw the line of sight. That man was locked on them … perhaps not them both, maybe just him or his mother. The distance that separated Wilbur from him made it a bit difficult to be certain. But then Wilbur questioned why. Of course, Wilbur knew everyone in Todayland, pretty much the entire planet, knows who his father was, thus who his family is. People knew what they all looked like from plenty of photos in the news journals, broadcasts, and in-person events. Strangers often said a hello or a silent wave of greeting. Some just … stare, which was awkward in itself, but the way _he_ stared at them was plainly unsettling. Evil. Dangerous.

Maybe he was just over reading into it. He knew that with his father being the _'Father of the Future'_ and his family known all over, people admired Cornelius for his creations and big changes, but Wilbur also knew his father had to have enemies. Those who were jealous of his success and hard work over the years. He grew dark feelings of the thought of someone actually taking action to hurt a member of the family to get at his dad. It was plainly obvious on the best way to get his dad. His son, himself, was a good bet because Cornelius loved him beyond what science would explain, but Wilbur knew his mother, Francesca Robinson, was the light in his father's life. Franny was not just Cornelius' wife, she was his partner, his best friend, his rock. She was the sole aspect of Cornelius' drive to invent, to create. She pushed him and encouraged to try crazy things. With a smirk, Wilbur also guessed that could be from his mother's assertive and know-it-all personality. Franny loved Cornelius, just as he loved her. If anyone wanted to get his father to bend, to fall to his knees in desperation, it was by hurting himself or Franny.

"Wilbur?" The distant voice pecked at his ear, but he brushed it off; thinking it was the radio.

_So … could that person be one that hates my father? If that is the case,_ Wilbur lowered his eyes to look out the side window, _then maybe I should keep a cautious eye out._

"Wilbur!" The voice called out again, much louder and closer to his ear.

"Ow!" Wilbur covered his ear to stop the sudden ringing. "Why did you do that?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for a while now. You seem … distracted, honey." Franny tucked her fingers between the pages of her book as a marker for her place, leaning forward in her chair to give him her full attention. "Is something weighing on you?"

"That … is an excellent question." Wilbur did his best to give her a familiar, calm smile.

"Anything you wish to talk about?" She pressed a bit harder.

"Nothing really to talk about." He watched his mother's brow arc slowly. "Really, it's nothing. Just … something Carl had said earlier. It's giving me something to think about."

"Hm." Franny straightened out her back from its hunched position. "Glad to see one of us three are finally getting through that thick head of yours about something."

Wilbur allowed himself to laugh. "Yeah. Progress."

From the corner of his eye, Wilbur saw his mother adjust herself comfortably and return to the book she kept in the car. It looked to be one of her older copies. Worn pages slightly yellowed and several creases from when she would turn the corner as a bookmark. She was still fairly beginning the book, not even to the third chapter it looked.

The rest of the trip was left in silence. The radio was barely auditable, and the thrusters of the vehicle were silent so that left a slight humming in his ears. As Wilbur lay across the back bench of the car, arm tucked behind his head with his gaze out the window, he was left to think over his terrifying conclusion. He bit his lip and turned his head when the sound of pages being rustled caught his hearing, catching his mother within the orbs of brown.

_Please don't let that be the case. I don't think I can handle it if I'm right._


End file.
